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 Mark Sanchez’s Research Paper
Mark Sanchez wrote "Into Las Animas" for his composition course. Early in his research process, Mark formed the preliminary research question: "How has my identity been shaped by my family's roots on the plains of southeastern Colorado?" He then conducted a preliminary search to assess the availability of relevant sources. He discovered that… |
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Sanchez uses an epigraph to establish a literary context for his own family's story. An ellipsis mark indicates that part of the original is omitted. Sanchez presents his thesis at the conclusion of his opening paragraph. The writer cites the two authors of material that he found on a Web site. Print, Internet, and field sources are used in this paragraph. The writer uses brackets to add information or to make changes within a direct quotation. the writer cites a corporate author by shortening the name, but the reader can refer to the full citation in the list of works cited. Sanchez mentions his source's name in the body of his paper, so he does not repeat the source information in parentheses. this direct quote came from a personal interview. Personal observations made in the field inform this descriptive passage. |
Into Las Animas and Myself April 2, 1998 To begin my journey into the past and into myself, I must go into Las Animas, the location of much of my family history. Spring has yet to wrestle its way into the landscape of this southeastern Colorado town. Las Animas, Colorado, thirteen miles east of Bents Old Fort along the Arkansas river (Appel and Appel), is the place where my father grew up. It is the town my grandfather grew up in and the place his father moved to in the early 1990s. The family farm is vacant now. I walk the old farm, kick old tires, and pull on an old piece of baling wire in search of those memories that helped shape who I am. Gosts of eleven children, numerous dogs, horses, and cattle tumble with the wind that rattles skeletonized cottonwoods. Lost stories have faded into yellowed paint that crumbles with the sagging barn. Glimpses of rabbit hunts along the Arkansas River and walks through itchy corn fields flash through my mind. In the middle of all these memories stands my grandfather, man who squeezed my fingers so hard shaking hands that I'd cry, a man who would show us how to care for horses and how to avoid being kicked, a man my father says could load hay bales for hours (A. Sanchez). However, those days are gone. My grand father, Octavio Sanchez, hasn't lived on the farm for nine years now. As settlers moved west down the Santa Fe trail, Las Animas, Colorado, was the first Spanish town they encountered (Sween). Las Animas was named after El Rio de Las Animas Perdidas en Purgatorio (The River of Lost Souls in Purgatory), a group of Spaniards who died in a flood along the Purgatoire River (Taylor 57). There is disagreement about exactly who the Spaniards were. My grandfather says that a group of settlers perished along the river, while another story has it that Spanish soldiers "died somewhere along its course without [proper burial]" (Taylor 58). At one time, Las Animas was a bustling town of between three and four thousand people (United Banks 25). "At its height it had three banks, a JC Penny, a local grocery store, and a theater, and its largest employer was Ft. Lyon Veterans Administration Hospital" my grandfather told me. According to Gene Stuart, a native of the tow. "Numerous ranchers and farmers frequented Las Animas's busy diners, gossiping and talking about cattle, corn, and beets. Kids would go to the movies or swim down at the public swimming pool." Las Animas is still the center of many activities – Santa Fe Trail Day and the Bent County Fair and Rodeo, for example – and historical markers – the Kit Carson Museum, the restored town of Boggsville, and Bents Old Fort (Appel and McCleary). But now the JC Penny building, long empty, is a deathly yellow where weeds, time, and a blistering southeastern sun have eaten away its paint. At night, kids bored for fun can be heard driving its streets or setting off fireworks. Once bustling farms, like my grandfather's, are quiet. Tractors and barbed-wire fences are black from summer and winter rusting away at metal. Tumbleweeds bunch up at barn doors and bury shovels and hoes. Revisiting this place helps me to feel my roots in the earth. I realize I want to continue my journey into the past by talking with my grand father. Ever since those days on the farm, I have tried to be the man that my grandfather was. I always offer a firm handshake like he did. I learned from him the value of hard work and perseverance. This man's blood runs through my bones; he and his past, I realize, have helped to create who I am. Today at eighty-one my grandfather lives in Cañon City, where I visit him. He lies covered by an old Navajo blanket. His once strong hands shake uncontrollably due to Parkinson's disease. Resting on his back, peeking out from dark eyes, he does his best to answer questions about the past. |
© 1999, Bedford/St. Martins
Mark Sanchez’s Research Paper